


Slow Road to Ruin

by shovel_bunny



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:06:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4926133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shovel_bunny/pseuds/shovel_bunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint is the best bartender Phil's ever met. Phil is the best customer Clint's ever had. Somehow they don't quite seem to realise that they're made for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Road to Ruin

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so pleased to have finally finished a fic. If you don't care for cliches, you may want to give this one a miss as it's full of them, but I'm pleased with it anyway. Phil is an agent of SHIELD but Clint, Natasha and the others are not.  
> Hope you enjoy.

‘Hey Phil,’ Clint’s voice rings out clearly across the busy bar and Phil waves briefly with the hand that isn’t tugging his tie loose. He drags it off over his head and stuffs it into his jacket pocket. Clint flashes him a grin and Phil feels the tension in his neck ease a fraction and his shoulders drop an inch or two. He breathes a sigh of relief and undoes the top couple of buttons on his shirt too.

He drops onto his favourite stool at the bar and waits for Clint to finish serving the group of young men who are busy debating the merits of the various bottled beers Clint keeps tucked on the shelves behind the bar. From the looks of it they’ve been going at it for a while and Phil could be in for a wait yet. As if reading his thoughts, Clint looks over and rolls his eyes theatrically, shrugging his shoulders helplessly.

Phil grins as he ducks his head and tells himself he will not blush, damn it. He is not a school kid with a crush, blushing just because the cute guy smiled at him. He shrugs his jacket off, settling it over his knee. He feels better already after a pretty hellish day dealing with other people’s foul ups. He doesn’t bother to lie to himself about it being due to the ambience of the bar, not quite hipster, not quite dive bar, just comfortable, or the reassurance of recognising a few regulars who know him the same way he knows them – vaguely and without any real depth, just familiar faces that get a nod or a few brief words every now and again, nothing too demanding.

No, it’s all down to Clint and because Phil’s a grown adult, thank you, he can admit it to himself in the safety of his own head. Admitting it to anyone else is another matter though, so Phil takes a deep breath and swallows down his attraction yet again as he waits patiently for Clint to come over.

Clint finally loses patience and starts subtly suggesting beers for the young men to try. A different one for each of them and Phil smiles fondly when they taste their drinks and exclaim loudly about how perfectly Clint has chosen from them. Phil knows if he looks around he’ll see the same smile on the other regulars faces.

Clint is pretty much the perfect bartender – although Phil would probably admit, under torture, that he may be just a tiny bit biased – he’s friendly and brilliant at his job. He knows when to chat to people and when to leave them alone and he has a knack for picking out the perfect drink for each of his customers every time.

If he really likes you he’ll even mix up a drink especially for you – the bar has a specials board up on the wall at the end that says things like ‘Black Widow – inspired by Tasha’, Bad Attitude – inspired by Tony’, ‘Hot Damn – inspired by Pepper’ and ‘Hell Frozen Over – inspired by Bucky’ amongst others.

It doesn’t hurt that Clint’s also absolutely gorgeous but Phil sure hopes he’s doing a better job of hiding his appreciation of that fact than the young man currently still lingering at the bar rather than joining his friends on the group of comfy battered looking sofas and armchairs in one corner of the bar.

The guy in question is smiling up at Clint from under his eyelashes and trying to hand Clint his number. Clint smiles back, a genuine smile, and Phil feels his chest tighten painfully as he looks away, not wanting to see Clint take the number and dash Phil’s foolish hopeless dreams. The guy flirting with Clint is at least fifteen years younger than Phil and cute enough if you like skinny puppyish guys with enormous soulful brown eyes.

Phil frowns down at the bar and tries very hard not to feel old and tired, ignoring the way he can all too easily picture Clint with this guy, they’d make a very handsome couple. Damn it all, he doesn’t normally struggle with his self-esteem, he knows he’s still in good shape for his age, the job ensures that. But Clint, is just... everything he didn’t know he wanted until he met him, and he’s never shown any interest in Phil at all beyond what Phil hopes is a friendship that goes further than just a bartender customer relationship.

‘Whoa. Sorry about the wait there, Phil,’ Clint smiles at him over the bar as he slides his usual IPA across to him, ‘I thought those guys would never pick a drink.’

‘You got them sorted in the end though, as usual.’ Phil smiles back but he can feel that it’s a bit strained around the edges and from Clint’s slight frown he can see it too. All Phil’s good mood has disappeared and he doesn’t really want his drink anymore. He just wants to go home and sleep for a week and forget all about pretty young men with huge brown eyes.

‘Well, they weren’t much of a challenge really.’ Clint shrugs, ‘Not like some people I could mention,’ he smiles crookedly but then gets a good look at Phil and asks ‘everything okay?’

‘Yeah, just a rough couple of days at work. Thought I could use a drink but honestly I’d probably have been better just heading home to my bed.’ Phil takes a mouthful of his beer, but the usually delicious hoppy bitterness tastes sour in his mouth and that does it for him. He refuses to ruin his beer with his sour mood.

‘Sorry, Clint. Guess, I’m more tired than I thought,’ he sighs. He passes the cash over for his beer and slides off his stool, grabbing his jacket. ‘I’ll see you next time, yeah? Say hi to Tasha for me.’

Phil slides his jacket on as he goes and doesn’t meet Clint’s eyes as he flees.

‘Sure, Phil. Take care of yourself, okay and come back soon.’ He tries not to imagine that he hears a note of disappointment and concern in Clint’s voice and he doesn’t see the way that Clint frowns after him as he goes or the concern in every line of his body as he pours Phil’s deserted beer away and drums his fingers on the bar agitatedly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘And then, he just got up and practically ran out the door,’ Clint runs a cloth half-heartedly across the bar again as he helps Natasha finish closing the place up.

‘Maybe, he really was just tired and you’re totally over thinking this,’ Natasha says as she finishes up with the cash register, ‘Just like you over think everything to do with Phil. I’m telling you, Clint he’s interested in you; just ask him out and put me at least out of this misery.’ She pushes a curl of fiery red hair behind her ear and fixes him with a stern expression. ‘Come on, Clint, it’s been what? Six months since Phil first started coming in here and you’ve been pining and trying not to flirt with him, and failing miserably at that by the way, ever since. It’s getting to be kind of pathetic.’

‘Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence there, Tash. Anyway, you know it’s not that simple. There’s no way Phil would be interested in me, I mean he barely even managed to look at me last night, he just looked so uncomfortable,’ Clint trails off miserably.

‘He’s gorgeous and intelligent and he’s got those sweet tiny little smiles that you really have to work for, and the way he looks in those suits. Yeah, you may have a point, pathetic and hopeless. Fantastic!’ Clint flung the cloth into the sink with rather more vehemence than it probably deserved.

Natasha smiled at him, ‘Clint, I love you like the brother I never had but I cannot believe you can be so blind about this, especially given how easily you can usually get a read on people. Phil’s a good guy, you know I like him a lot.’

That means a lot coming from Natasha; she’s very reserved about other people although you’d never guess it from watching her work in the bar. She’s ruthlessly efficient and she can turn on the charm in a flash, being whatever her customer needs from her to be at that moment. Very few people actually get to see the real Tasha, she chooses her friends carefully and is fiercely loyal to them but they are few and far between. Clint has always counted himself spectacularly lucky to have her on his side.

She ruffles his hair as she walks past to collect her coat, ‘You know I wouldn’t encourage you if I didn’t think Phil was good for you or if I thought he wasn’t interested in you.’

Clint sighs because he knows that’s true, Natasha has picked up the pieces from his broken heart too many times before to want to see him make the same mistakes again.

‘Thanks, Tash,’ he drops a kiss on the top of her head as he closes the door behind her and makes sure the bar is secured for the night.

He feels a tiny bit better as he waves goodbye and turns to trudge home. He wants to believe that Natasha’s right but Phil’s never shown any sign that he’s interested as far as Clint can see. He’s not even entirely sure that Phil likes guys, for God’s sake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phil smiles at Tasha as she comes straight over to serve him and tries not to be too obvious about looking around for Clint.

The beautiful redhead grins at him with a look that says he’s not being nearly as subtle as he thinks he is. ‘Hey, Phil, Clint’s teaching his archery class tonight so he won’t be in until just before closing. Want your usual?

Phil gives her his blandest smile because he knows she finds that amusing and says, ‘Sure,’ and tries to ignore the way she’s laughing at him without even opening her mouth as she pulls his beer.

Once she has his order he looks around the place and sighs when he notices that Tony Stark is holding court at the far end of the bar. As usual he’s talking loudly and emphatically, demanding drinks from Natasha and Darcy and generally being a pain in the ass. He waves when Pepper catches his eye from her spot at Stark’s side and shakes his head at her invitation to join them.

Phil likes Pepper a lot and he knows most of the group that he can see gathered around Stark at the bar. Most of them are regulars; he can see the giant bulk of Thor and the only slightly less massive form of Steve Rogers in the group. If Steve’s here then Bucky will be somewhere around too and Thor’s tiny girlfriend, Jane is probably hidden by the crowd.

Phil’s been getting to know them over the last couple of months slowly but surely. He’d been fairly horrified the first time Stark had decided that Phil was apparently ‘one of the regulars’ now and he’d barely resisted tasing him when he’d sauntered over slung an arm around Phil’s shoulders and insisted Phil drink something a little more interesting than beer.

There’s someone else with them tonight, Phil can see dark brown hair with a hint of curl to it but can’t quite get a good luck at the new guy’s face. It’s obvious that most of Stark’s attention is focused on him and Phil winces in sympathy because that can get wearing pretty quickly.

‘Who’s the new guy?’ he asks Tasha when she hands him his drink. She follows the direction of his gaze and a small fond smile creases her lips, ‘That’s Bruce Banner. He’s another scientist that Stark’s managed to pick up from somewhere. Crazy brilliant apparently. ’

‘Well that makes perfect sense, I guess. You’d need to be brilliant to keep up with Stark and crazy to put up with him for any length of time,’ Phil says as he raises his glass to Tasha in thanks. She chuckles, a rich throaty sound that Phil doesn’t get to hear too often – her real laugh, ‘I’ll tell Pepper you said so, shall I?’

Phil grins back at her, ‘She’d only agree with me.’

Phil’s almost finished his second drink and he’s really only nursing it trying to stick around until Clint gets back when he hears Stark yell out for another round of ‘Harlem Smashes’ for everyone on his tab.

‘What the hell’s a Harlem Smash when it’s at home?’ he asks absently and then nearly jumps when Tasha answers from just behind him where she’s been collecting empties.

‘It’s Clint’s latest special. Just went up on the board last week; he worked it up for Bruce the first time Tony brought him in and it has enough alcohol to knock you flat so there’s no way anyone in here is getting any more of those tonight or we’ll be calling the emergency services.’

Phil’s eyes flick to the specials board and sure enough there it is in Natasha’s neat script. He swallows his beer roughly and doesn’t reply. It shouldn’t matter, it really shouldn’t, that Phil doesn’t have a drink on the board. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s not like Clint makes them for everyone who comes into his bar after all. He has made a special for everyone in that group though, for every one of the regulars. But not for Phil. He tries not to read too much into that but there’s no doubt that it hurts.

He reminds himself that just because Clint’s spent as much of his evenings as he can talking to Phil when he comes into the bar over the last couple of weeks it doesn’t mean anything. Phil’s obviously just seeing things that aren’t really there, letting his own fond hopes cloud his judgement. This ridiculous crush is getting out of hand if he’s letting himself get so wound up over something so small.

Perhaps it’s a good thing that he’s about to ship out on what’s promising to be a much longer mission than usual. He needs to get his head straight and get over this. Some time away might be good for him; he can’t meet anyone else while he’s pining away for Clint like this.

He’s really only been waiting for Clint to let him know that he’s going to be gone for a while and not to panic and start calling the cops to file a missing persons report like he had the last time Phil hadn’t been able to call in for a while, so Phil finishes up his drink and starts getting his stuff together. He tries to ignore the way his beer now feels like acid in his stomach and his chest is tight.

‘Phil?’ Natasha looks worried. Phil sighs, wondering what she saw on his face just then and curses the way she always seems able to see through even his best efforts to maintain his composure. He wonders, not for the first time, if he could persuade her to come and work for SHIELD, there’s a lot she could teach even the senior agents about reading people.

‘I need to head out; I’ve stayed too late already really. Can you let Clint and the others know that I’m going to be out of town for a while on business so I won’t be in for a few weeks probably.’

‘A few weeks?’ now she really looks concerned and Phil isn’t convinced that the smile he’s pasted onto his face would convince anyone, never mind her.

‘At least three or four weeks, I think but I can’t be sure. You know how these business trips can be, sometimes things come up and you’ve just got to deal with it while you’re there,’ he shrugs.

‘Business trips. Sure.’ Natasha looks no more convinced by this than she has any of the previous times he’s used the excuse. ‘I’ll let Clint know,’ she hesitates, ‘he’ll be disappointed to have missed you if you aren’t going to be back for a while, Phil. Are you sure you can’t stay just a bit longer?’

‘Sorry, Tasha,’ Phil shakes his head lies through his teeth, he isn’t sorry at all. The last thing he wants is to see Clint just now when he feels this off balance. ‘Goodbye.’

He makes it out of the door and is far enough away that he can pretend he doesn’t hear Clint’s voice calling his name from the opposite direction, just arriving back from his class. He keeps going and doesn’t look back and if his eyes burn and his heart aches then no one else ever need know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Three months, Tasha. He’s been gone for three months and not a word,’ Clint’s slumped over the bar in a manner that suggests such abject misery that she almost feels sorry for him. Almost but not quite.

‘Well, what were you expecting exactly? Did you ever man up and tell him how you felt about him? No. So why would he make any effort to let you know what he’s doing. He has no way of knowing that it matters to you.’ Natasha doesn’t bother pulling her punches anymore, this is not the first time they’ve had this conversation in the last three months.

‘Tasha!’ Clint moans miserably, ‘that’s not really helping.’

She clings to the last vestiges of her patience with her fingertips and resists, just, the urge to throttle him with one of his own bar towels.

‘Clint, you had your chance. You had lots of chances. And you didn’t have to be the one to stand here and tell him that you’d created a new drink especially for some new guy that you’d barely even met when, as far as Phil knows, you didn’t like Phil enough to make a drink specifically for him.’ She looks away from Clint, ‘You didn’t have to see what that did to him, Clint. It’s horrible to watch someone you care about lose their hope that way.’

Clint stares at her in anguish, ‘He’s not coming back is he?’ He drops his head into his hands and stares at the tall glass sitting on the bar in front of him, ‘I’ve finally figured it out, it’s finally perfect and he’s never going to even taste it. I’ve missed my chance, Tasha. I’ll never be able to make this for anyone else, its Phil’s drink. And now all it’s ever going to be is a reminder that I was too much of a coward to take a chance on the best thing that ever walked through my door.’

‘I’d take offence at that if you weren’t so pathetic right now,’ she pulls him into a hug because he needs it right now and it’s the least she can do for him given everything they’ve been through together. She holds him close murmuring soft soothing nonsense in Russian and holds onto the hope that Phil at least won’t give up on them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Phil stands outside the familiar door of the bar and takes a deep breath ignoring the way his stomach clenches tightly. It’s been over four months since he said goodbye to Tasha and he’d given serious consideration to not coming back here at all. But in the end he isn’t a coward and so here he is.

In the last four and a bit months he’s worked two very difficult ops and barely had time to think about anything but work. He probably would have come back in much the same state as he’d gone away if it hadn’t been for one of the junior agents on the first mission. Thomson had made it quite clear, in no uncertain terms, that he found Phil highly attractive.

Phil had been a bit perturbed at first, wondering if it wasn’t a touch of misplaced admiration – Phil does have a bit of a reputation amongst the junior agents. Or even a cynical ploy for advancement, but Thomson had proved to be entirely honest in his approaches. He was six or seven years younger than Phil and very easy on the eyes, as well as being a competent agent with a bright future ahead of him.

Phil had thoroughly enjoyed evenings spent chatting with an intelligent, handsome man who apparently just wanted to spend time with him. He was attracted to Phil and wanted to get to know him better. It was a huge boost to Phil’s confidence and he couldn’t deny that he was tempted, but in the end he wasn’t Clint and Phil didn’t want to use Thomson as a way to rebound from Phil’s ridiculous infatuation, so he’d turned him down.

On the second mission Phil had felt much more like his old self. He’d been suave enough to sweep in and seduce the mark into giving up the relevant information needed to make the rest of the op run smoothly and without even rumpling his tuxedo. He’d never felt more like James Bond in all his life, although a few of Bond’s gadgets would have been handy along the rest of the mission.

So now here he was. He finally felt like he had himself back under control, the Phil Coulson everybody at SHIELD knew and respected. He was going to walk into the bar, say hi to everyone including Clint, have a couple of drinks and then go home without blushing like a school girl or falling straight back in love with Clint Barton. Even if he never comes back again, he needs to prove to himself that he can do this.

He pushes through the door and walks straight to his usual barstool without even really thinking about it or considering why it’s not taken in the busy bar.

‘Hey, Phil! Where you been, man?’ That’s Bucky’s voice calling to him from the far corner of the bar and Phil waves at him with a grin. He’s actually missed these assholes while he’s been away, even – God help him – Stark.

He turns back to the bar to see Tasha smiling widely at him but Clint...

Clint looks like he’s just seen a ghost. He’s gone pale and he’s frozen staring at Phil like he’s horrified by the sight of him. Phil forces himself to look away, to push the hurt down and look back to Tasha because at least she seems pleased to see him. She’s beaming at him as she makes her way over to him.

He flicks a glance back at Clint who is suddenly all action, grabbing a glass from under the bar and starting what’s obviously a complicated drink. He realises instantly that he’s been fooling himself; he isn’t over Clint at all. He drinks in the sight of him, his magnificent arms, his familiar beloved face and the hair sticking up all over as usual from where he’s been running his hands through it.

‘Phil, I’m so glad to see you.’ Tasha says and he turns his attention back to her. ‘We were beginning to think you weren’t coming back at all.’ From anyone else he’d think that was just conversation but from Tasha he knows she’s seen right through him as usual. ‘You said you were going to be gone a few weeks, Phil. It’s been months.’

‘I know, I’m sorry. Things got complicated,’ he’s not even really trying and from her raised eyebrow she knows it.

‘Well, I guess it doesn’t matter now. The main thing is that you’re back,’ she sounds strangely relieved and he looks at her quizzically but she just gives him a small smile and asks him what he wants.

‘Well, I’d hate to break with tradition so I guess I’ll just have my usual please.’

‘No problem, coming right up,’ she says and moves along the bar to start pouring his beer.

Phil stares miserably down at his hands, clutched tight together on the bar, not wanting to see Clint so frantically trying to avoid serving him. He’s so absorbed in avoiding the activity behind the bar that he doesn’t realise that Tasha’s been gone for much too long.

He doesn’t notice much of anything until familiar hands that definitely don’t belong to Tasha slide into view with a tall glass that doesn’t contain IPA or anything remotely like it. The drink in question is a rich dark purple colour and there’s an intriguing smell coming from it. No bells and whistles, no fancy rims around the edge or fruit cluttering up the glass, just the drink plain and simple.

He looks up in surprise and meets Clint’s eyes, which uncharacteristically dart away from his in a show of uncertainty that sweeps Phil’s misery away in an urge to reassure him.

‘Hi,’ Clint says and one of his hands reaches up to rub at the back of his neck nervously.

‘Hi,’ Phil replies and then wants to kick himself for such an uninspired response. He’s fumbling for something to say and wondering exactly when things became this awkward between them when it’s always been so easy between them before. Then Clint takes his breath away with his next words and the soft shy smile on his face.

‘It’s your special, Phil.’ He pauses and rubs at the back of his neck again in that endearing fashion, ‘I’m sorry it took me so damn long to get it right. I actually started working on it the first time you came in but I just couldn’t quite get it.’

Phil stares at him in mute surprise, it’s never taken Clint more than one visit to come up with a drink for anyone. That’s it. That’s his thing, finding the perfect drink for anyone the first time he meets them.

Clint shrugs and a blush creeps up his neck, which only makes Phil even more tongue tied.

‘I didn’t realise that it was because I was got too close too quickly. I always see better from a distance and I’ve been working away on it all this time but it was just never right. It wasn’t until you went away...’ he pauses and he looks so thoroughly miserable that Phil finally manages to open his mouth to speak desperate to wipe that look from his face, but Clint soldiers on. ‘It wasn’t until you went away that everything finally came clear for me and I think its ready now, Phil. Ready for you to try it. If you want to that is?’

He looks so genuinely concerned that Phil might not want to try it, ready to bolt at any second that Phil’s fingers twitch towards him across the bar and he only just reins in the urge to wrap his hand around Clint’s arm to stop him.

Instead he turns the aborted movement into a reach for the glass with the intriguing mystery drink. He lifts it towards his mouth and takes in the smell, sweet but not cloying, and strong, there’s definitely going to be a kick to this one. He takes a good mouthful and immediately a subtle blend of flavours burst across his tongue. Yes, there’s a hint of sweetness there, just enough to counter the bitter undercurrent of the alcohol without detracting from it.

Clint knows Phil’s sweet tooth, Phil can pick out raspberry and possibly even blackberry providing some of the sweetness masking the hidden strength of the alcohol in the drink which hits with a sudden punch to the gut when he’s least expecting it. He sets the glass back on the bar and savours the lingering aftertaste with delight; it tastes like the quiet warmth of a long summer evening.

He can’t quite believe this is his drink. It’s delicious, quite simply one of the best things he’s ever tasted. He opens his mouth again to tell Clint and comes up blank. How on earth is he supposed to put all of that into words? His usual eloquence deserts him and he flounders helplessly until he sees Clint’s face fall and realises the bartender’s about to bolt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clint waits impatiently, barely controlling his impulse to bounce up and down like a kid as Phil takes the drink off the bar and first sniffs at it like it’s a fine wine before taking a solid slug of it. He waits for Phil’s reaction. And waits. And waits.

He actually has one of those horrendous moments when it feels as though time has slowed down and every second seems to last a lifetime; he hadn’t realised that could actually happen outside of movies and novels. As Phil gently sets the glass back on the bar, Clint’s heart kicks up another notch and he can hear his pulse hammering in his ears, sweat making the palms of his clenched fists damp.

When Phil still doesn’t say anything, Clint feels his heart sink from where it’s been choking him in his throat right down to the soles of his boots. Damn it, Phil obviously hates it and just doesn’t know how to tell him. He’s trying to find a way of letting him down gently, without hurting him. And that’s so like Phil, to do his best to be kind. The first time Clint’s ever failed with a drink and it’s going to be the most important one he’s ever made. That’s just so typical of his life. Clint’s half a second from bolting when Phil’s hand shoots out across the bar and grabs hold of his arm gently but firmly.

‘Clint! It’s...it’s amazing. It’s delicious, I love it.’ Phil’s voice is quiet, pitched as usual so that Clint will hear but they won’t disturb anyone else. So it’s even more of a shock to them both when the odd quiet they hadn’t even noticed is shattered as the entire bar erupts in cheers and shouts of congratulations to Clint.

Phil looks around in embarrassment as the regulars shout and the closest ones reach across the bar to pound Clint on the back and demand to try the new drink as well. He hadn’t even realised that anyone else in the bar had been paying them any attention. Fury would have his hide if he knew how completely Phil’s situational awareness had disappeared just then.

His eyes flick back to Clint and a helpless smile tugs at his lips as he watches Clint accepting high fives and blushing furiously. Tasha flashes Phil a brilliant smile and puts a hand on Clint’s shoulder as she leans up to speak to him, tilting her head towards the specials board with a question Phil doesn’t need to hear.

‘Sure, sure of course. Get to it,’ Clint tells her and Tasha wastes no time in pulling a bar stool across for height and adding a name in her familiar tidy script – ‘Sloe Road to Ruin - inspired by Phil’.

Phil frowns slightly at the name and turns back to the bar to see Clint fending off more calls for the drink in question and promising to make them for everyone later. He makes his way back in front of Phil and grins at him. Phil’s so relieved to see that usual cocksure smile back on Clint’s face that he almost doesn’t ask but curiosity always gets the better of him in the end.

‘What’s with the name?’

Clint flushes again, a slower deeper red climbing back up the strong column of his throat and almost succeeding in distracting Phil.

‘Um, yeah. It’s something my mom used to say to my brother and me when we were kids. She used to say that love was a slow road to ruin,’ the small smile on his face is wry and Phil thinks back to the snippets Clint has let slip about his less than ideal upbringing.

‘I always thought that she meant that love was a bad thing, that it ruined everything. And maybe that was what she meant because God only knows it didn’t do very much for her. But now I think that that isn’t true, that’s not what it means at all. It means that you may have ruined me for anyone else, Phil,’ his hand creeps across the bar until it meets Phil’s and nudges against it, ‘And that’s a good thing. A really good thing.’

Clint looks down but this time when he looks up the smile on his face is bright and full of joy. Phil has no idea how anyone could possibly expect him to resist after that and he lets his actions do all the talking for him, throws caution to the wind, leans over the bar and presses his lips to Clint’s joyful smile in a reckless kiss.

Clint doesn’t hesitate at all, just wraps a hand around the back of Phil’s neck to keep him close and kisses him back enthusiastically. The bar which had only just started to settle down erupts in cheers, whistles and cat calls again. Phil couldn’t care less right now though, as Clint eventually lets him pull away with a sweet lingering caress of his lower lip. He settles back onto his bar stool but this time he tangles his fingers together with Clint’s and knows that he has a simply ridiculous grin on his face.

‘God, Clint. I’ve been wanting to do that for such a long time but I wasn’t sure you saw me that way and I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable – you get enough of that in here as it is.’

Clint’s answering smile is just as goofy as Phil feels. ‘I was hooked from the first night you came in that door, super hot guy in that damn suit, Jesus, Phil you have no idea. But that was just lust. All those evenings when you came in and sat at this bar and let me get to know you, that was the slow road, Phil. I was pretty slow coming to that realisation though.’ He rubs at the back of his neck again and his eyes slip away to the side.

‘I’ve always just jumped straight in before, when I thought someone was hot. Just flirted and gone straight to bed and it’s never really worked out.’ He flicks his tongue out to wet his lips and soldiers on, ‘But you, I couldn’t really get a clear read on you. Not that first night or the next couple of times you came in, but gradually we started to talk more and it all just felt really natural, like it was right. It just made me want you more but I wasn’t sure if it was just me. Tasha kept telling me it wasn’t but you keep your cards pretty close to your chest, Phil.’

It’s Phil’s turn to blush this time, he feels it rising up his neck and burning in his ears. God, it’s like being a teenager again but he no longer cares that Clint has this impact on him because apparently Clint feels the same way.

‘Sorry about that,’ he can feel the smile on his face making his cheeks ache and he doesn’t give a damn, ‘it’s an occupational hazard.’

Clint laughs, quiet and happy and squeezes Phil’s hand. ‘That’s why the drink was such a long time in the making, every time I thought I had a handle on you, you’d let me see another chink in the armour, another bit of the puzzle that is Phil Coulson and I’d have to start all over again.’

‘It was worth it though, when I finally got it right I knew it straight away. Smooth as silk and subtle but with a hint of sweetness showing through and all masking that hidden strength that hits just right when you least expect it but never overwhelms. I thought I’d missed my chance though. When you went away for so long, I was sure you weren’t coming back and that the drink might finally be perfect but it would only ever be a reminder of you.’

Phil’s sure he hasn’t blushed this much since before he joined SHIELD, he’d thought they’d trained it out of him, but apparently all it takes is Clint looking at him like he hung the moon and all his training is useless. He’s just about to reply when an arm slings around his shoulders and Stark, because of course it’s Stark, butts into the conversation without even a hint of shame.

‘So, hey guys, I hate to break up your beautiful little heart to heart here because man, we are all glad that the painful mutual pining and UST is finally gonna be over. But, I heard tell that this was a bar, you know, where you can hand over cash and the guys behind the bar give you alcohol in exchange.’

‘Tony, seriously man, go bug Tasha, if you want a drink. I’m kinda busy here,’ Clint doesn’t take his eyes off Phil for a second but Tony is nothing if not persistent.

‘But I want one of those,’ he points at Phil’s drink, which Phil quickly pulls out of his reach defensively, ‘and Tasha says she doesn’t know how. Apparently only you have the recipe and you haven’t even told her.’

Clint grins at Phil and it’s his mischievous, I’m about to do something you’re not expecting grin. Phil can take a hint and downs his drink in a couple of quick swallows, licking his lips and chasing that delicious aftertaste.

Clint vaults over the bar with a fluid economy of motion that makes Phil’s breath catch and which forces Tony to take several steps back or risk getting Clint’s boots in his chest. Clint grabs Phil’s hand and pulls him off his stool and towards the door as he turns to shout to Tasha and slides his cell phone back into his pocket.

‘Don’t let these bozos get out of hand Tasha; Darcy and Kate are on their way over to help out. And feel free to just throw them all out and close up early.’ He smiles at Phil sweetly, ‘Phil and I are going out to get coffee.’

Tasha waves them off with a smile and a roll of her eyes that Phil can see even from here, as she ignores Stark’s outraged yelling with an ease born of long practice.

‘Coffee?’ Phil asks quietly as Clint pulls the door closed behind them.

‘Yep, coffee,’ Clint slides his hand tentatively into Phil’s as though he’s not sure it might be welcome out here on the street. Phil tightens his fingers to squeeze reassuringly as Clint continues, ‘that drink packs a hell of a punch, Phil and I want you sober and in full control of your faculties tonight.’

‘Coffee sounds good then, I sure as hell don’t want to forget a single second of how good it feels to kiss you now that I finally have the chance.’

Clint shivers at the low rough tone in Phil’s voice and abruptly changes direction, ‘Given how long we’ve spent getting to know one another in the bar, how many dates would you say that counts as? Enough that we can get that coffee back at my place?’

Phil doesn’t even bother to try and hide his enthusiasm for that idea and only just refrains from trying to pull Clint into a run so that they can get to that damn coffee faster, ‘Like you said, Clint, we’ve taken the slow road to get this far, I don’t think anyone can say we’re rushing things.’

Clint’s smile is sweet and full of promise at the same time. Phil barely resists pulling him into a kiss then and there, bystanders be damned, but he finds an unknown well of will power and simply tugs at Clint’s hand urging him to lead on, content to follow his lead as long as they’re going together.

 

Epilogue

‘Sloe road to ruin’ proves hugely popular in the bar to no one’s great surprise. Phil doesn’t drink it very often himself, preferring to stick to nursing his usual ales in the evenings and saving ‘his special’ for special occasions.

He has no objection to Clint making them for everyone else though; especially as it seems to involve an awful lot of vigorous mixing that lets Phil ogle Clint’s magnificent arms without shame now that he’s allowed to. He doesn’t even object to the fact that almost everyone else in the bar ogles Clint’s arms when he’s mixing the drink as well. It would be churlish after all to deny other people that little bit of pleasure when he gets the inconceivably greater pleasure of going home with Clint afterwards and taking advantage of those arms properly.

Clint loves making the drink for new customers because inevitably they always ask about the name of the drink and the inspiration for it. He never points Phil out which Phil is endlessly grateful for, but he takes a ridiculous almost wicked amount of pleasure in rhapsodising in great detail about the guy who he created the drink for. Phil has his suspicions that Clint enjoys it so much because he gets to throw sly glances at Phil who it seems still hasn’t managed to regain control of his blush reflex around his beautiful, brilliant, charming lover.

**Author's Note:**

> The title for this fic comes from Be My Downfall by the excellent Del Amitri. Justin Currie is a superb lyricist and a lot of their songs tell brilliant stories in their own rights. On this particular occasion, my boyfriend and I were coming back from a Del Amitri gig last year and we were talking about this particular song, when the idea came to me that this particular line sounded like a cocktail and from that tiny idea this fic was born. It just took me over a year to finish it...

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Unless Continents Collide](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4997350) by [desert_neon (sproutgirl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sproutgirl/pseuds/desert_neon)




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